


Freedom

by StefiDelly



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/F, wolf!Ruby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StefiDelly/pseuds/StefiDelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wolf stands guard at the Gates of the Underworld. When Belle is brought there to be Hades’s servant, it stirs up thoughts and images of the wolf’s long-since forgotten life as Ruby/Red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> This is very wolf!Ruby-centric and pretty much just took on a life of its own as I was writing. Also, the only clear thing here is Ruby as [a] Cerberus. Belle can sort of be Persephone-ish, but not really. Hades, I left him semi-vague, like it’s up to you whether or not you want to picture Rumple in his place.
> 
> [(reposted from my tumblr)](http://thestefidelly.tumblr.com/post/52059701499/16-freedom)

The stench of death pinched at the wolf’s nostrils, creating an ever-present snarl on her snout. It was the prominent scent in this station at the Gates of the Underworld. Beyond the gates, the wolf had little idea what could be found. There were traces of some fragrance deep within. A perfume or incense maybe. Somewhere within Hades’s throne room or personal quarters.

It wasn’t a certain fact. The wolf could only guess, and had long since given up trying to find out.

There was nowhere else for her to go. This was where she belonged, guarding the gates, tearing at the clothes and flesh of the newly dead so they may enter in the barest form of their very soul. Any attempts at escape ended with her. They would run straight into her waiting teeth.

This was how it has always been and always will be. A heavy collar and chain kept her from wandering far, ensured she never faltered in carrying out her duties.

So when a completely different scent drifted down to her from around the bend of the River Styx, the wolf was startled and caught off-guard. Charon and his ferry were still far off, but that scent… whatever it belonged to… it was on the ferry with him.

She recognized that it was similar to the scent the other gods held, the ones that occasionally came to visit Hades. There was that sense of brightness to it, yet it was still different in a way that the wolf couldn’t understand. It didn’t hold the lightness and mystery that the aroma tied to the gods had, but it still seemed special somehow. There was a hint of flowers and things from a different, distant time, mixed with a smell similar to the parchments that Minos referred to when judging the dead.

It was confusing and agitating. The fact that Hades was approaching with the unidentifiable thing added to the wolf’s distress. If she didn’t deal with the situation appropriately, there would be consequences.

When the ferry came into view with Charon at the helm and Hades standing tall, the wolf bunched up her muscles, prepared to take action. The thing was seated where the dead were normally gathered, and it looked the way the dead looked before the wolf did her work on them.

A growl rumbling in her throat, the wolf crouched down, watching as the ferry reached the dock. The thing stepped off the boat at Hades’s urging. The wolf took that as another sign to consider it as one of the dead. She lunged forward, jaws wide open, ready to sink teeth into the soft flesh and tear at it until only soul remained.

Instead, a heavy blow to the wolf’s skull sent her over the dock and straight into the river with a splash and a long, low wail from the aimless souls circling the dark waters.

Head throbbing from the impact, the wolf scrambled back onto the dock, weighed down by a soaked pelt and the desperate tug of the souls at her fur and tail. Jerking her body forward shook them lose.

There was barely enough time to recover before the staff struck again, catching the wolf under the chin. She landed on her back, leaving her stomach exposed to several more blows punctuated by shouts from Hades, reprimanding the wolf for attacking.

A new voice, completely foreign to the wolf, cut through the air.

The blows stopped.

Whimpering from the pain of fresh bruises, the wolf cowered at Hades’s heel. It was the newcomer—the woman that the wolf was apparently not allowed to attack—that had spoken. She moved towards Hades, who took a step back, lip curled, eyes narrowed, hand clutching his staff.

She spoke in a voice so gentle and concerned, the wolf couldn’t grasp any of the words, couldn’t derive any meaning from the soft sounds. When her hand drew close, the wolf tensed, expecting the burning pain of a burst of magic or the impact of a heavy blow, or even the sharp cuts of slashing claws.

The light touch behind her ear was painless, and…  _soothing_.

Confused and distressed by such a strange sensation, the wolf let out a whine and scurried out of reach, as far as the chain would allow. She hid within a crevice in the jagged walls off to the side of the gate.

~*~

It took several days getting short glimpses of the woman from the other side of the gates for the wolf to finally listen and understand enough of the conversations within. She was here to be a servant to Hades, given to him as part of a deal he made with a mortal from beyond the underworld.

Her name was Belle.

~*~

More days passed. Possibly a week or so. The wolf had only a vague sense of time, and poor understanding of the passage of such things as weeks and months. There may have been a time when she could understand it, but that time must have been decades ago. It was from a different lifetime.

And the scents still attached to Belle—the scents of grass and roses and trees and books—they poked and prodded at the darkened corners and crevices of the wolf’s mind. Attached to them were thoughts and memories so elusive, it frustrated her, like a piece of flesh or strip of cloth stuck so deep within her teeth, she couldn’t reach it.

~*~

A day came when Belle was closer to the gates than ever before.

The wolf’s first instinct was to attack because that was what she always did whenever the more independent-minded souls fooled themselves into thinking escape was an option.

What stopped her from actually lunging was the memory of Hades’s anger the last time the wolf tried to attack Belle.

With that in mind, the wolf laid still and merely watched Belle’s approach. The droop to her shoulders and the set of her eyes and mouth told of sadness. She leaned against the gate’s bars and slid down to crouch on the floor, head buried in her knees.

The sound of whimpers was muffled, but the wolf could definitely hear it.

Alarmed that she might be blamed for Belle’s distress, the wolf emitted a long, low whine and glanced towards Styx, where Charon and his ferry were still far from sight or scent.

The whine alerted Belle. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, turning to face the wolf.

Still the same soft, unintimidating tone was used to address the wolf, but this time she put all her effort into concentrating on the words and understanding what was being said.

“Well… hello there.” Belle sniffed again, and let out a sound somewhat like a laugh, but without any of the harshness so normally found here. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll-“

The interruption came in the form of Hades summoning Belle, his harsh, scratchy voice echoing through the dark hallways.

With a sigh, Belle turned and headed back, but not before casting a last glance at the wolf.

~*~

The gentleness to Belle was something that still seemed foreign to the wolf. Such behavior and attitude was not to be seen in the grim way Charon brought his ferry, or in the harsh bark of command he gave for the wolf to do her work. It was also not to be seen in the curses and swears or cries and pleas of the incoming dead. Hades also carried none of it as he prowled the Underworld, its gates and its rivers for inspections. It wasn’t in the way he wielded his staff threateningly, or when he carried out on such threats.

Belle was different and she didn’t belong here.

~*~

The next time the wolf saw Belle up close, she was more composed and collected, but still carried an air of sadness.

Though she wasn’t slumped over or curled up on the floor, there was a wistful look to her eyes as she clutched at the gate’s bars and stared out at the river, as far out across Styx as the eyes could see.

It was almost as if she thought it would be possible to see places beyond the Underworld if she could just crane her neck enough.

This was even stranger behavior. She wasn’t trying to escape even if every part of her body clearly said that she wanted to. Words weren’t needed for the wolf to understand that Belle wished she could be anywhere but here.

From around the bend, the wolf scented Charon and his ferry approaching.

Struck by the feeling that whatever Belle was doing may not quite have the approval of Hades, the wolf barked a warning and twitched her ears in the direction of the river.

At first, confusion flitted across Belle’s features, then the curses and complaints of the incoming dead seemed to reach her ears at last. With widened eyes at the realization, and a brief nod to the wolf, Belle hurried back to where she was supposed to be.

And the wolf was ready to tear and rip and try to forget this confusion.

~*~

It happened again, several times. Belle would come to stare at the river and drift into some distant plane of thought, sometimes so distant that it took three barks instead of one to bring her back. Each time, the wolf made sure to keep watch without really understanding why she felt the need to do so.

All she knew was that whenever Belle left safely, without being sighted by Charon or any of Hades’s subjects, the wolf was filled by a sense of relief.

The short moments with Belle gave the wolf a sense of purpose. One that wasn’t to tear and rip and destroy. It was so far from that as a task to watch and  _protect_.

Because that  _was_  what she was doing with Belle. It was a task that the wolf was growing to find herself looking forward to because of how different it made her feel. The task didn’t seem as vicious and dreaded as everything else in the Underworld. In fact, it could almost seem to be an act as gentle as Belle herself, with the way she could talk and move so differently from Hades or Charon or Minos or the desperate souls.

Somewhere in the depths of the wolf’s mind, where most thoughts and memories were still shrouded in darkness, she could almost recall a time when maiming and destroying  _hadn’t_ been her only purpose.

~*~

The next time Belle spoke again, it was still confusing, even if the wolf again made sure to pay attention to all the words.

“Have you always been here?”

Tilting her head to one side, the wolf licked her lips, painfully aware of a sticky layer of the dead’s scent still covering her after the latest batch of new arrivals.

Belle turned away from the wolf, as if remembering there was no answer to be had from a creature that couldn’t speak in that tongue.

That thought jogged at something else in the wolf’s memory. There were rapid flashes before her eyes, in quick succession but no determinable chronology. Images of an old woman and word of a scar or a wolf or a moon. A glimpse of a young man and mention of a color. The sight of a red cloak with an intricate pattern woven into the material’s design. The sound of someone talking about winter.

“There was a bookshop…” Belle spoke again, this time without facing the wolf. The distant look was floating back into Belle’s eyes as she continued to speak. “…back where I came from. It had all these stories of adventure, of heroes going on quests, of brave souls coming to the rescue of those in distress.”

The sound of her voice was so melodic, the wolf could almost forget where they were and just picture the images that Belle described. “It had shelves from floor to ceiling, a rolling ladder… and at the entrance, a friendly old man always greeted me and welcomed me in.”

She laughed again, the same bitter sound from before. “Father disapproved because he believed I should be putting more focus into grooming myself into a proper wife for Gaston.”

Talk of bookshops and fathers and…  _home_.

Something about it tugged at the wolf in ways she  _still_ couldn’t understand. The gaps and chasms of blackness in her memory kept her from grasping the stories behind the flashes and scattered recollections. The most she could do was attach some of Belle’s descriptions to a few of those images.

There had been a bookshop the old woman wanted to go into, but someone wasn’t interested in joining the old woman, instead preoccupied with thoughts of the young man who talked about colors and stones. Both the young man and the old woman talked about colors and stones.

“There were fields all around our estate,” Belle continued, “I think you would have liked that. Rolling hills to run along, soft grass to lie in…” Another long, wistful sigh, “And when our kingdom was at its most plentiful year, the land was so healthy… the grass couldn’t have been greener. It was so bright and full of life and…” she trailed off, sighing again.

The wolf remembered the young man again, running with him. The scent of damp grass and morning dew was in the air, and the little blades tickled the soft soles of her feet at she pranced and danced with the young man.

Attached to the young man were feelings of joy and belonging.

The closest the wolf could come to feeling anything like that now were these short moments with Belle.

And this particular moment had to be ended by four barks. Just in time, Belle made her exit before Charon made his entrance.

~*~

The wolf came to look forward to those little moments with Belle, and grew attached to the woman and her talk of things that ranged from the books she read to the dreams she had to the home she left behind.

More and more flashes would come to the wolf’s mind as Belle talked. Some of them still remained hazy and vague, while others were like clear paintings appearing before her eyes for several seconds before fading back into the gaps. The old woman had been someone the wolf had been really close to. Someone she loved dearly. The young man, with his dark hair and friendly smile, was at first a source of happy thoughts, but some flashes of blood and pained screams were beginning to give the wolf pause and she was no longer sure how much of him she really wanted to remember.

“I remember it started to go downhill when winters grew colder and more bitter, and summers became scorching hot,” Belle had chosen to talk about her negative memories today. “The resulting famine left our land open and vulnerable to sickness and death. By the time the ogres attacked, our population was stretched thin. We didn’t have the forces necessary to win a war against opponents so difficult to defeat.”

Talk of war and death and snow reminded the wolf of even more of her buried memories. The image of a young woman came to mind, and she had been a close friend. Accompanying the image were thoughts of wanting to protect the woman from people who were looking to harm her.

They had fled together, the woman accompanying the wolf, the wolf protecting the woman. The reason they had to flee was painful. Though the memories were still elusive, the wolf was sure that something terrible had happened. Whatever it was, it forced the wolf and that woman to flee everything that had been familiar and safe.

Furrowing her brow, the wolf struggled to reclaim the memory, but it refused to cooperate. Again, it was like trying to reach a strip of flesh or cloth from deep between her teeth.

“Wolf?” Belle’s voice drew the wolf’s attention away from the scattered images and vague thoughts. “You look like you have something to say.”

Did she?

Before Belle ever came here, the wolf had never felt the need to communicate with anyone. Charon brought the dead, Hades readied his staff or his magic, the wolf did her job. That was all there was to it and there had never been a need to question it. If those aboard the ferry were dead, they were for the wolf to attack. If they were gods, they were for the wolf to avoid. It was as simple as that.

And now?

Now, the wolf wished there was a way she could express her confusion and frustration. It all started with Belle’s arrival, and if the wolf could only speak, she would have asked for answers.

Brow furrowing, Belle looked directly into the wolf’s eyes, and it almost seemed as though she was trying to understand the wolf, almost read the wolf’s thoughts, almost hear the burning questions, almost feel that overwhelming need for clarity.

For a moment, the wolf believed that if she could just look long enough, and just  _think_  hard enough, a connection would be made and her thoughts would be heard.

“It’s almost like…” Belle inched closer to the gate, pressing her cheek against the bars. “Like you’re trying to…”

Charon was coming.

Too caught up in the moment, the wolf almost didn’t notice the approaching scent or hear the usual tell-tale sounds of the new arrivals. With the usual warning bark, the wolf put a stop to the searching look on Belle’s face, replacing it with one of alarm as she spotted the approaching ferry and scurried out of sight.

Something heavy weighed the wolf down when Belle left.

It was dark and stifling, more prominent than the general atmosphere of the area. Harder to ignore, closer to the heart. As if a hand pushed itself through the wolf’s chest and held on with the grip of a vice.

A harsh yell from Charon, calling the wolf a mangy mutt and ordering her to get on with her task, brought the wolf back to the present. She ducked a threatening swipe of his oar before driving her teeth into the nearest dead.

~*~

The wolf tried to be more careful the next time. Tried not to get too caught up in the pressing thoughts of those vague memories, or in the strange feelings stirred up by being near Belle. Tried to carry out her orders efficiently.

But a bad feeling deep within her feared Hades already heard about the lapse.

~*~

“Hades tortured some poor soul today.” The curl of Belle’s lips gave away her disgust if her tone hadn’t already. This was how she chose to start today’s shared moment. “He tried to show me his handiwork and thought I would be  _impressed_.”

Lowering her ears back, the wolf wondered what Belle thought about the tasks of others in the Underworld. Particularly if Belle felt just as much disgust at the methods the wolf used to separate soul from body.

“I know he does it to enforce his power.” Belle continued. “The other souls, the shades, the other beasts… they never cross him because of how much they fear him.”

The fact that Hades still hadn’t delivered his punishment for the wolf’s lapse was continuing to be cause for concern. It would be odd behavior for Charon not to report it, and even more odd for Hades not to take action against it.

“And I… I  _know_  I’m supposed to fear him,” Belle frowned and lowered her voice, “I  _do_  fear him, but…”

Intrigued by this confession, the wolf leaned forward, pushing her snout through the bars.

“I  _detest_  him more than I fear him.” The eye contact that followed was unnerving, but the wolf couldn’t bring herself to look away. “What about you?”

The image of Hades in a fit of anger, swinging his staff, shooting painful magic from his fingertips, face twisted by rage—it flitted through the wolf’s mind and elicited a whimper and a shiver. She pulled back from the gate and crouched low to the ground, tail held between her legs.

For a moment, Belle’s face seemed to show disappointment, then the expression changed as a realization hit her. “But still, you keep watch for me instead of giving me away.”

That much was true.

“You’re different, Wolf.” Belle said, “You’re not like anyone else I’ve seen here.”

Would she still think that if she got a good look at what the wolf did to the newly dead? Would she still think so highly of the wolf? Would she still look at the wolf in the same way? Still look into the wolf’s eyes and maintain some connection neither of them could put into words?

The wolf was a monster. A beast in the Underworld like any other.

How could Belle be so sure that the wolf was different?

These thoughts triggered another memory, yanking it out from wherever it was buried and shoving it before the wolf’s very eyes.

There was a winter when the wolf had gone hunting in another land. She could remember the crunch of snow underpaw, and the cold air tickling at her pelt.

It had been an abundant winter. The wolf knew she had made many kills and feasted to the point of being too full to move.

Such a memory must have been from a very distant time if the wolf could actually feel  _full_  from gorging on flesh. What she did now with the dead gave her no such feeling of fullness. It was just something she knew she had to do. It did nothing to the hungry longing deep within her.

“Wolf?” The sound of Belle’s voice seemed distant now.

The wolf felt more aware of the snow at her paws and the scent of trees than the charred and rocky ground or the stench of death. She could see trees everywhere, all around her and all along the horizon. They were black and almost leafless, but didn’t look anything like the dead and twisted trees she knew.

Overcome by an urge to run and hunt, the wolf licked at her lips and propelled herself forward in powerful leaps and bounds. The feel of wind rippling through her fur, the feel of her muscles at work to bring her as far as she wanted… there was nothing like it. The wolf couldn’t figure out how she could forget a feeling as amazing as this.

The sight of some human caught the wolf’s attention. Following her instincts, she lunged, going straight for the throat, digging into the skin of his neck, jerking her head back to break his bones and put a quick end to his life. Scents of blood and flesh filled her senses, as did the joy of a successful hunt.

It was addicting. The wolf moved fast, taking out several more humans with the same quick kill method. At first, the only emotion attached to it was the happiness of victory.

Then a darker feeling pushed its way in.

No longer sure if she was controlling her own body, the wolf was crouching and ready to pounce, muscles coiled and tensed. Before her, the young man was chained to a tree, defenseless and trapped. He had no means of fighting back or escaping when she struck, digging her teeth into his skin and ripping it open, tearing chunks of flesh apart until blood turned the snow a deep red.

Something touched at the wolf’s shoulder, light and easy to ignore at first. It grew stronger, more incessant.

With a jolt, the wolf opened her eyes and realized she was whimpering and trembling. The hand on her shoulder was Belle’s, tracing circles into the fur, rubbing at the skin. It was comforting in a way that the wolf needed more than she would care to admit. She even leaned into the touch and whined.

“You’re alright now.” Belle was crouched down and whispering into the wolf’s ear. “Whatever you were dreaming about, it’s over.” She continued to stroke the wolf’s fur. “You’ll be alright.”

The touch felt so soothing, the wolf could almost close her eyes again and forget.

But the scent of death and blood still pinched at her nostrils, and the telltale signs of Charon approaching were a reminder that the Underworld just couldn’t be forgotten so easily. The wolf barked once. This time it was enough and Belle left after a light touch of her hand to the wolf’s cheek.

Drained by the wrenching flashback, the wolf was slow to react when the ferry arrived. The feel of Belle’s hand on her cheek was still warm and fresh, and traces of that sweet scent still lingered in the air. Those soothing remnants of Belle’s visit clashed harshly against the heavy impact of the memory. More confusion stirred up the wolf’s mind, more questions popped up to take the place of the answered ones.

This time, the wolf failed to duck the swipe of Charon’s oar. It hit her shoulder, just where Belle’s hand had been a moment ago, replacing the previous comfort with pain.

Knowing that word of this infringement was  _definitely_  going to reach Hades, the wolf shook off the distracting thoughts and set about tearing the dead apart, hoping she could rip fast enough to make up for the lost time, but knowing it was too late to erase the mistake.

~*~

Not long after, Hades came.

Anger was clearly written in the tense set of his shoulders and in the tight grip on his staff.

The wolf flattened herself against the ground, trying to appear as small as possible and minimize the areas within hitting range so that her stomach might be protected even if her back was completely exposed.

“Don’t think I hadn’t noticed the decline in your behavior,” was all Hades said before dealing out the blows.

Some form of magic surrounded the staff, making every contact with it burn hotter than fire. It intensified the pain of each impact as blow upon blow struck the wolf, across her back, her head, her limbs.

As the punishment dragged on, the wolf could no longer control herself. She cried out at each strike, begging for mercy in wails and whimpers and cries that didn’t sound anything like the words Hades and Belle used so easily.

A half-hearted attempt to escape just ended with the chain stretched taut and the wolf cornered. The collar tight around the wolf’s throat, kept her from moving any further, forcing her to take the raining blows without anywhere else to move.

Somewhere in the middle of the agony, the wolf spotted Belle.

Behind Hades, hidden in the shadow of a ledge on the other side of the gate, Belle watched with wide eyes. There was fear in them, but the wolf also saw the same concern as when they first met.

Though Belle might think that the wolf was different from the other residents of the Underworld, the wolf knew that  _Belle_ was the one who was different.

~*~

By the time the hits finally stopped coming and Hades had gone, the wolf was exhausted and delirious from the agony.

A touch at her head made her wince, but she relaxed when she recognized Belle’s familiar scent. She stroked the wolf’s forehead and whispered words of comfort the wolf was too drained to process. Instead, she just listened to the sounds and how they were woven together so seamlessly, rising and falling in a melody that eased the wolf’s mind.

There was what sounded like an apology, and the wolf responded by easing her head upward and giving Belle’s hand a tentative lick, half expecting her to recoil with disgust.

Still, she didn’t move away. Instead, she brought both her hands to the wolf, stroking her fur and guiding her head to be cradled on Belle’s lap.

That was when the wolf noticed that Belle had opened the gate and moved over to the wolf’s side. It was a passing realization the wolf was too tired to dwell on.

Other stray thoughts and images flitted in and out of the wolf’s mind. Mostly of the old woman, the young man and the young woman. They had all been important parts of the wolf’s life at some point, but they were gone now and the wolf only knew for sure that the man had died by the wolf’s teeth. The old woman, who was like a mother to the wolf, and the young woman, who was like a sister- both their fates remained a mystery.

Another mystery was how the wolf had come to be the guard at the gates.

Those traces of a past life, those scattered memories and images, they all implied that the wolf had once lived above ground. Otherwise, why would she have recollections of the sun and sky and grass beneath her feet or snow against her pads or the moonlight in her fur?

It couldn’t be possible that the wolf had been born into this world and had only ever always been here.

So why was she here now?

~*~

After the incident with Hades, they became quieter and more careful, but they also moved even closer to each other. On some days, Belle would be daring enough to push the gate open and sit next to the wolf again, leaning against her and stroking her fur. On other days, she would stay on her side of the gate, but reach through the bars and massage the wolf’s head.

Someone as warm and caring as Belle—who no longer showed any fear or apprehension at the prospect of approaching, of even  _touching_  a monster from the Underworld—couldn’t  _possibly_ belong here.

But after all those moments together, the wolf could no longer stand the idea of the Underworld ever being without Belle.

~*~

There were other days when Belle would just sit by the wolf and stare, looking into the wolf’s eyes and trying to read something in them. It was on just that kind of day when she said, “You dream of leaving too, don’t you?”

As impossible as it was to leave, the wolf nodded. The more she remembered the grass and sky, the sun and moon, clear water without any lost souls riding the current, the more she longed to experience it again. It was strange to admit it now after initially trying to deny it.

The wolf had been living here for so long, she probably wouldn’t even know how to live and survive in the Upperworld anymore.

Still, even if the very idea of it was wrong, and the act of escaping itself was unspeakable, the wolf still dreamed of it anyway. All it took to remind the wolf of reality was a glance at the collar around her neck and the heavy chain that kept her in place.

“We’re the same,” Belle’s face was so close to the wolf’s nose, her whiskers tingled and twitched at the woman’s breaths. “You and I? We’re just trinkets to  _him_.” There again was that distinct curl to her lips at the very mention of Hades.

Stroking at the fur along the wolf’s cheeks, Belle continued to stare and speak. “Part of his dealings with mortals.”

The wolf narrowed her eyes, fumbling with the concept presented to her. It sounded less like a guess and more like something Belle actually knew. As if maybe she had made it a point to find out how the wolf had come to be part of the Underworld.

Was the wolf really here as part of a deal? And if she was, what kind of deal? With whom? Did it have anything to do with the old woman or the young woman? Or was it related to the humans the wolf had killed during her hunts?

“If we weren’t duty-bound to honor our deals,” Belle broke eye contact first, turning slightly so she was leaning against the wolf instead. The wistful look was back on her face as her dreams of adventure played out before her eyes. “I would be out of here by now. Sailing across the seas and discovering new countries, learning new languages, interacting with other cultures, immersing myself in all the books of every land.”

A smile spread over Belle’s features, bringing out a beauty to her that the wolf enjoyed looking at and watching. “And I’d bring you with me. We’ll see the different sights together, experience the rock and bob of a ship during a storm, rescue villages from the attacks of ogres, climb mountains to see how wonderful the view would be from the top…” She glanced back at the wolf. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The wolf pushed her snout into Belle’s shoulder and licked her cheek. Though her scent had changed slightly, adopting some of the Underworld’s prevailing smell of death, the core of it was still there. The aroma of flowers and the crisp scent of paper and books. It was all so  _Belle_  and just inhaling it gave the wolf a sense of peace and belonging.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Eyes snapping open, the wolf turned to see Hades stepping off of Charon’s ferry and striding over, jaw set, shoulders tensed.

“We were just…” Belle stood up and looked from the wolf to Hades, “Wolf and I…”

“Were planning your escape.” Hades growled the words out through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. “I’m not deaf and I’m not blind.”

Every strand of fur rose up as the wolf tucked her tail and crept back several steps. She watched Belle stand her ground and maintain a distinct level of composure despite the fear scent surrounding her like an aura.

“We made a deal, Belle.” Hades stretched himself up to his full height and pushed his face close to Belle, firing his words out at her. “ _Nobody_  breaks deals with me.”

“You misunderst-“

“Do  _not_  insult me with lies.” Hades spoke over her with a louder voice, punctuating the words with a wave of his staff.

Belle’s brows knitted together, “It’s the tr-“

A backhanded strike sent Belle reeling back, clutching her cheek.

“You didn’t keep your end of the bargain.” The bottom of the staff emitted sparks as Hades took a step towards Belle. With the rise of his temper, Hades spoke ever louder. “Nobody does that to me!  _Nobody_!”

As he raised his staff to deliver another strike, the wolf sprang into action, leaping for Hades in a tackle that sent them both sprawling across the rocky ground. The surprise of the attack left the god temporarily stunned.

Taking advantage of the pause, the wolf glanced in Belle’s direction and was relieved to see that she was otherwise unharmed.

Charon was approaching though, oar at the ready.

Burning pain in the wolf’s side drew out a high-pitched cry. She squirmed away, discovering the source to be Hades, magic glowing at the tips of his fingers. He stood up and reached for his staff, fury in his eyes.

The wolf’s initial attempt to leap out of the way was stopped by the collar at her throat. Her body propelled forward while her head was jerked back, leaving her open to a swing of the staff, straight into her stomach.

Coughing and gasping, the wolf curled up and felt the impact of another strike across her back. The sound of Belle’s shriek and Charon’s growl told the wolf that if she didn’t incapacitate Hades soon, unspeakable agony would befall both Belle and the wolf as punishment for this rebellion.

Another blow caught the wolf’s shoulder, burning through the fur and cutting at the skin. She scrambled further back with a yelp.

“You are going to regret this dearly.” Hades took a menacing step closer to the wolf, brandishing the glowing staff. “That, I can guarantee.”

Gritting her teeth against the pain of the burns across her back, stomach and shoulder, the wolf steadied her limbs for the next strike. Harm and punishment could come to the wolf at any time and she would be able to heal from it. Belle was a different story and the wolf was going to have to do the impossible to ensure her safety.

Just as Hades reeled back to deliver another blow, the wolf struck, aiming for the legs, sinking teeth through the cloth and into the skin. She maintained her grip even as another blow across her back scorched skin and fur.

It took holding her ground against several more blows and jerking her head back to pull Hades off balance and bring him down. They wrestled and flailed along the ground, rocks digging into their skin, debri clinging to their fur and clothes. The wolf was vaguely aware of the chain going slack, cut through by a stray bolt of magic.

In mingled fury and desperation, Hades resorted to the raw magic of his bare hands, reaching for the wolf’s face, pressing sharp nails into the her cheek and forehead. The agony of the touch contrasted so sharply against Belle’s gentle, soothing ones that the wolf was forced to release her grip, reduced into a wailing, writhing mess.

He had gained the upper hand and the wolf was now at his mercy.

“You’ll be hobbling on one leg once I’m through with you.” Hades snarled, digging his nails deeper into the wolf’s skin. The fingers of his other hand clutched the wolf’s ear and burned a deep nick right through the skin and cartilage.

A scream and the disappearance of pain came as an unexpected surprise, as was the sound of a heavy impact, then a splash, then the wails of the souls in Styx.

Dazed, the wolf blinked several times to take in Belle, hair disheveled, several cuts bleeding, various bruises forming. In her hands was an oar that couldn’t be anyone’s but Charon’s. She was breathing heavily, but could still maintain her hold on the makeshift weapon.

“We should go.” Belle gestured towards the now abandoned ferry.

Biting back a whimper, the wolf swallowed and stood up on trembling, unsteady legs. The dock had never seemed this long before. Each step agitated the fresh, bleeding wounds. Were it not for Belle’s encouragement combined with the sense of urgency, the wolf would not have pushed herself into running. The desperate souls clawing and pulling at Hades would not hold him back for very long.

The wolf tried not to limp, but by the time she made it to the boat, her aching shoulder could no longer hold her weight.

Belle wasted no time in getting the ferry moving once the wolf was aboard. The steadiness to her actions disguised the panic and distress that could just barely be seen in the light trembling of her hands.

“I’ve dabbled in several books about sailing and boating.” The unusually high pitch to her voice was also another giveaway to her hidden distress.

As much as the wolf’s body longed to curl up into a ball and rest, she forced herself to limp over to Belle’s side and look out across either side of the river for any signs of pursuit. The burns and cuts across her face and through her ear made it difficult to look around and swivel her ears, but she persisted.

Visually, there were no signs of their pursuers, but the wolf could already scent Hades and his shades several river bends away.

Belle seemed to sense it too, and put all her concentration into maneuvering the ferry through the river, evading protruding rocks and taking sharp turns, especially when the river escalated into rapids.

When the end of the river finally came into view both the wolf and Belle could already hear the sounds of their pursuers. Stopping the ferry at the dock, they avoided the crowd of newly dead scattered across the wasteland.

Being the one who came here more recently (and still had most of her memories intact), Belle led the way through a tunnel until it opened up into a cavern where several more of the dead were huddled.

“Up there.” Belle pointed at light filtering through an opening above them. It was just next to a towering wall of rock that looked intimidating to climb in the wolf’s current state. The thought of turning back would have almost been tempting if the wolf couldn’t already scent fresh air and  _grass_.

The wolf barked and presented her back to Belle, who hesitated, eyeing the wolf’s damaged shoulder. “Are you sure?”

There was no time. The scent of Hades was getting stronger, nearer. Another bark reminded Belle of the urgency. She clambered onto the wolf’s back with haste, but still enough care to avoid further agitating the wounds and burns. With her knees gripping the wolf’s ribcage and her hands clutching the collar, Belle whispered, “Ready.”

Ignoring the pain was easy enough when fear of punishment and the potential reward of freedom were the motivations the wolf focused on with each leap and bound from ledge to ledge. Though every muscle and burn screamed in protest whenever she had to pull herself over the narrower cracks in the wall, the wolf kept going. All her senses were drawn to the fresh air just several more jumps away. It filled her lungs and cleared away the stench of death, filling the wolf’s nose with the intoxicating scents.

When her paws got their first feel of the breeze of a different world, the wolf strained her muscles for that last push until they tumbled out of the hole to sprawl across the grass.

There was no sound of screaming or crying or wailing or gurgling or hissing or roaring. There was no smell of death or decay other than what filtered through the hole. There was no sight of charred rocks.

The wolf was blasted by all the new sensations; she could only gape at everything.

Belle had a different reaction entirely. Laughing in pure, unadulterated joy, she wrapped her arms around the wolf’s neck and planted a kiss to her cheek. “We’re free!”

The cool night air tickled the wolf’s fur and soothed the burns, while up above, a crescent moon shone down on them.

It was so much to take in, the wolf began to shiver. Somewhere in the distance, she could sense rabbits and squirrels, burrowed in the soil or hiding in the trees. The sound of hooting owls and chirping crickets were a different sensation to her ears.

With her body taking on a mind of its own, the wolf felt the shivering increase into more violent tremors.

Amidst her laughter and exclamations of joy, Belle stopped, noticing that something was wrong. “Wolf, what’s happening?” She wrapped her arms around the wolf again. “Is it the burns? Is  _his_  magic doing something to you?”

Something was happening. The wolf felt her body shake more strongly, while in the pit of her stomach, she felt something shifting. Her skin seemed to be crawling, and her bones tingled.

With this new set of sensations, the wolf almost forgot about her injuries.

“Wolf?” Concern clear in the tone of her voice, Belle tightened her grip around the wolf. “Wolf, what’s happening?"

The fur, standing on end just a moment ago, seemed to fade away, exposing the wolf’s skin to the cold breeze. Her body’s tremors turned into a shift in position, the tingle of her bones were the reshaping of her anatomy.

When the spasms died down, she was crouched down, exposed to the cold, garbed in nothing but the collar and chain still hanging loosely around her neck.

Belle pulled away just enough to see the new face in front of her, but retained her hold. Surprise was etched into her features as she took in what she was seeing. “ _Wolf_?”

“ _Ruby_.” She gasped, surprised to hear her own voice again after being unable to use it for so long. “ _My name is Ruby_.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
